


Asgoretale

by PumpkinFullOfKnives



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 2nd Person Narration, Asgore POV, F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinFullOfKnives/pseuds/PumpkinFullOfKnives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgore Dreemurr did not wish to rule, but duty bound him to the role of king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King

The crown weighs heavy on your head.

It’s smaller than your horns, of course. They’re large horns, as befitting of a king, you suppose, but the crown is made of gold, and you’re not yet used to the weight of it. The throne is comfortable, and the view of Mt. Ebott out the palace window is lovely. It’s a beautiful day outside. You wish you could take off that damned crown, sip some tea, maybe step outside, garden a bit. The flowers are blooming bright yellow.

Your father, King Velgore Dreemurr, ruled the Kingdom of Monsters for over two centuries, only to be slain by humans four days ago under a banner of peace. The human leader said they wanted a trade deal, to end bolster human-monster relations. Instead, the humans rained arrows down upon your father. Your older brother Velmant, seeking vengeance, led his army to battle against the humans, only to be turned to dust by a human mage. His army was forced to retreat, with not a single human SOUL captured. Your brother was king for less than a day.

There’s been so little time to grieve. You loved them. No - that’s the wrong phrasing. You love them, still. That doesn’t change, even when they’re gone.

Greatest Dog of the Royal Guard stands beside the throne, stoic as ever. You grew up with him, learned to fight, laughed and played in the gardens together. But as you grew older, you grew apart — he’d made up his mind to be a knight, dedicating himself to swordsmanship. You have felt for some time that he has grown over-serious, but you did not begrudge him his focus on his duty. You prefer to read, sip tea, and garden… but you have duties as well. With your father and most of his Royal Guards dead, you’re burdened with the duties of a king. You chose Greatest Dog as captain of your guard. You know and trust him, and he’s more reliable than the only other remaining member of the Royal Guard. Gerson is skilled with his hammer, but he’s a young hothead — He tries to make people to call him the Hammer of Justice, for heaven’s sake. You can only hope he’ll mellow with age.

The coronation was this morning — a somber affair, as the kingdom mourns your father and brother. The royal court is tense and sullen. The human army gets closer to the capitol each day.

You stand from the throne, and call for your advisors to meet you in the council chamber. Memories of your father stir in your SOUL. You recall listening to him through the walls of the castle, meeting with advisors, business leaders, and generals. You remember when the war broke out, his fury and frustration. You remember when he introduced you to Toriel.

You love her. Toriel is your fiance — a beautiful monster, kind and gentle. She has a way of lighting up a room with her mere presence. She jokes, and laughs, and smiles. The fact that she will soon be your queen almost makes you smile, despite the war, despite the grief.

When you arrive at the council chamber, the generals monsterkind are already busy discussing the tactical situation. Your brother’s army is battered, but not yet broken, despite his demise. It’s all that stands between the armies of humanity and the capitol. Nearly the entire population is arming themselves, preparing to fight for their lives against the invaders. As the generals discuss plans and tactics, you barely understand what they are saying. Strategy was your brother’s interest, but his strategies didn’t save him. He was too bold, too valiant, and of course he led the charge.

The generals eventually reach an agreement. They say it would be best to evacuate the towns past Mt. Ebott, bringing what was Velmant’s army toward the capitol. They shall block the human army’s advance at Mt. Ebott. Your army would use the local terrain to maximum effect, fighting a defensive battle. The humans have the advantage in numbers, but the mountain and the forests by it have been known by monsters for millennia, while it is unfamiliar territory for the humans.

The plan seems to you to be a good one, but you find it difficult to care, despite your duties. The fate of Monsterkind is, to you, overshadowed by grief. The fate your father and brother suffered has all the realm of monsterkind in mourning. But they were your family, your only family.

Then again, you still have Toriel. You suppose you can make a new family, should you survive this. That thought gives you a feeling of determination, more so than the thoughts of your duty.

Unsurprisingly, the generals have begun bickering again. One of them, a thin, fast-talking lizard monster, has changed his mind, and is arguing for something he apparently calls gorilla tactics. You have no idea what gorillas have to do with tactics, or war. Before he can continue on, you speak.

“We will make our stand at Mt. Ebott. I will lead the army.”


	2. War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing in chapter 1, by the way.

Meeting in the garden before you ride out, you tell Toriel that you will lead the troops. Her initial reaction is as you expected, not as you hoped.

Tears are welling in her eyes. “You could die!”, she cries out, but then her voice softens, her hands tightening around your own. “You should stay in the safety of the castle, dear. Stay with me, and leave the fighting to the generals. Please.”

You know she is pleading for the impossible. It is your duty to lead the troops. This could be the last stand of monsterkind, and you will not risk your kind to dust with your fears. You cannot.

“Tori, I wish I could. I wish this mad war was over, that we could live in peace, but wishing gets us nowhere. You know as well as I that if the humans defeat us at Mt. Ebott, the castle will not stay safe. It could withstand near a year of siege, but they would starve us out eventually. This could be the death of our kind, should we fail. I am king, I have to lead.”

You expect her to break into sobs then, to ask again for you to stay. If you were in Toriel’s place, and she in yours, you would want to to convince her to run off with you, escape, and live. Duty feel little more than an empty whim when compared to your love for her, and you cannot think of what it would be like to lose her. If Toriel were riding into battle, and you were powerless to stop it, you would envy her position. However, it is your duty to fight, not hers.

But then she looks up at you, and you can see the strength in her SOUL. Toriel is holding back her tears. She is trying to stay strong, and you realize she is doing so for your sake.

“I know,” she says, “You are right, the soldiers need you. I… I cannot ask you to promise to be safe, or even to be careful. Battles are not safe things, and risks must be taken. But, please, Agore, do not throw your life away. I know you are not your brother, but please, do not lead some mad charge in search of revenge. Promise me you will try to live through this.”

Her request catches you off guard. “Tori, I would never throw my life away like that. While you are alive, I will always have someone to live for.”

The two of you embrace, and you wrap your arms around her, kissing her. You say your goodbyes, and you leave her at the castle.

Soon enough you are marching towards Mt. Ebott alongside Greatest Dog and Gerson, as well as most of the local militia from the Capitol, and the generals. It is not a long march - the mountain is right on the edge of the city. You walk past the homes of your people. You see monsters of all sorts, young and old, looking out the windows, eyes on you.

Gerson is chattering on about how he means to use his hammer to cave in the chest the human general who had your father killed. He means to be a hero, like in the stories you read when younger. You doubt he will succeed, but he may yet prove himself. The young turtle is strong, brave, and seemed to be a natural with his warhammer.

Greatest Dog seems to be making a concerted effort to ignore Gerson’s rambling ideas of heroically saving the day. The two monsters could hardly be more different, if you disregard their shared occupation. Greatest Dog comes from a long line of canine monsters, many of whom have served in the guard over centuries, but none with such single-minded focus. His sense of duty is as unparalleled as his skill with a sword is, far as you can see, but you remember when he was a novice with the blade. He was not born with a natural talent for it, but he worked long and hard, practicing night and day.

As you approach the woods around Mount Ebott, you hear birds singing. It is a pleasant sound, and the afternoon sun is shining bright. You see your late brother’s army encamped at the edge of the river. Knights and mages and soldiers all salute you as you enter the camp.

The scouts say the human army should arrive tomorrow at roughly noon. The enemy has a significant advantage in numbers, according to all reports. As afternoon turns to night, the generals discuss strategy in the commander’s tent while you listen. Greatest Dog stands by your side, but after about an hour of listening to the generals argue, he turns and walks out into the camp.

You watch him leave. He is an old friend, and his behavior worries you. If he had simply kept a stern face and stood by your side, that would be expected. That is how he always is, these days. Concerned, you leave the tent, and see him standing outside. The camp is quiet, and most of the troops seem to be asleep.

“Hello, your grace.”, he says, not even turning to face you.

“Your grace?” you inquire, before letting out a forced chuckle. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to being called that, old friend.”

“I would hope so, your grace. But I suspect otherwise.” Greatest Dog turns and looks at you, and his canine face is less stony than downcast. “You’ve heard the reports - the humans outnumber us two to one. The generals have no more idea how to save us than you or I. Good defensive terrain or no, we will likely lose tomorrow’s battle. The humans have fought without honor, and they have every other advantage I can think of. Some say that for each of us a human kills, they grow stronger. The act of killing gives them power, and they become addicted. Like how a monster can absorb a human SOUL, but different. I do not know if such tales are true, but it would explain how easily they killed your brother. They had already murdered your father, who was even stronger, after all. I fear they will murder us all. Either way, it is kill or be killed for us now.”

You are not sure how to reply. This is the most he has spoken at once in years.

“I am sorry for rambling at you, your grace. Please forgive me. I will see you tomorrow.”

You when you try to sleep that night, you toss and turn for a long time. When you finally sleep, you dream of your father.

 

* * *

 

You wake to screaming and fire in the dark.

As soon as you sit up, you see Greatest Dog. He is armed and armored, standing outside your tent. His keen ears must have heard you rise, as he immediately turns to you, and barks orders at you.

“Your grace, get up! Hurry!”

Standing, you take in the scene unfolding outside your tent. It is a slaughter. Tents and trees are burning, your troops are barely awake, and you can see humans in the distance, putting your soldiers to the sword.

They took us by surprise, you realize. It is not yet dawn.

You put on your armor as quickly as you can, and pick up your trident. As you step outside your tent, standing beside Greatest Dog, you see Gerson, locked in battle with a human knight. Gerson’s hammer swings mightily, but the knight parrys. Behind them the general's’ tent is burning, and a pile of dust lies in front of it, amidst smoldering arrows. More humans are approaching, wielding pikes, swords and bows. There are too many.

You stand frozen, petrified by fear.

The human knight swings his blade at Gerson, but Gerson sidesteps the blade and, with a swing of his hammer, smashes in one of the soldier’s knees. Greatest Dog rushes forward, and stabs the downed human knight in the neck. Frantically looking around, you see that the three of you are now surrounded. Human archers stand behind human pikemen, closing in on you.  Many of your troops have surrendered, and the rest have been butchered, turned to dust.

A light rises from the human knight’s body. A golden heart, floating in the air. A SOUL.

A human in dark armor rides up behind the archers, and from atop his horse he shouts “Surrender!”

Gerson charges toward the man on the man in dark armor, but is hit in the back with two arrows. He falls down upon his face, hammer sprawled in front of him. He is not yet dust, but surely will be soon.

Greatest Dog immediately reaches out and grabs the human SOUL. He absorbs it, and his eyes glow, his fur stands on end. Arrows fly at him, and he cuts them apart before they reach him. He points his blade at the human in dark armor, and a beam of golden light comes out of his blade, stabbing the human in his gut. The human falls to the ground from his horse, landing with a thud.

Still you do nothing. You do not know what to do. You are strong, but are too many of them.

You see two more humans ride up. They wear robes, not armor, and carry staffs instead of blades. One points his staff forward, and suddenly Greatest Dog is blasted backward by an invisible force, flying into the row of pikemen behind him.

You turn in time to see his impaled form turn to dust and blow away in the wind.

You drop your trident. Tears well in your eyes.

The other robed human waves a hand, and the human in dark armor rises to his feet, healed. He takes off his helmet. The man looks young for a human, and he smiles as if he was a guest at tea, not a ruthless conqueror, nor a man who had just been impaled. He has green eyes and short blond hair.

“Hello, King Asgore. I am General Edgar Cross. If you surrender now, you and what is left of your people will be granted mercy. Otherwise, we’ll kill the lot of you. What is your decision?”

You say the words. You end the war. You surrender.


	3. Defeat

They take your trident, but let you keep your crown.

The humans have you as their prisoner. General Cross tells his mages to take you to your soldiers, some of whom are still fighting back, though you know they cannot win. You tell them to lay down their blades, cease casting spells, and surrender. They follow your command, and you are marched away from them by your captors.

Gerson was clinging to life, but the human mages healed him, after taking his hammer. His shell saved his life, undoubtedly, but you suspect he may have a bad back for the rest of his days. He lies on the grass, snoring. You sit by his side in silence, in the remains of your army camp at the side of Mt. Ebott. The sun is bright and the sky is blue. You remember when you played catch with your brother on days like this, in your youth.

Gerson and yourself are kept under constant guard, and you wonder why you are still alive. The human king had promised your father trade and prosperity, and instead had General Cross ambush him, after all.

_They are liars and murderers, but they have not killed me yet, and they gave me no choice but surrender._

The fate of your people rests in the hands of General Cross, and you do not know what he meant when he said he’d show mercy.

You should have burned him alive with your magic when you saw him.

_You’d be dead. You may have killed him if you tried, but they’d have shot you down before you could wield his SOUL. You could not have won the battle._

You should have found a better strategy.

_You didn’t listen to that lizard general, but you can hardly ask him now what you should have done. It is too late._

You should have stayed with Toriel.

_You could not. You had a duty. You **have** a duty._

You know you should have done _something_ different. You are sure of that much, at least.

The sound of footsteps approaching takes you away from your second-guessing. One of your captors says “Sir!”, and you turn to see him saluting the man who murdered your family.

General Cross is not wearing armor, and does not appear to be armed. He is carrying a tray with two cups of tea on it. At the sight of the human, you can feel fury rising in your SOUL.

You want this man dead more than anything else in the world.

Standing, you tower over him. He is of an unremarkable height, even for a human. You could tear him to pieces. You could burn him alive.

You don’t. You simply stand there, looking down at him.

“I’d like to talk with you, your grace,” the murderer says, his voice calm and confident. The smug bastard called you by your royal title. He does not look worried when he looks you in the eyes.

You turn away. “Why?”, you ask, trying to hold back your anger. Killing him would lead to retaliation, you know. The humans would turn your people to dust.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, putting the tray of tea on a table. “I am glad you surrendered. I did not want to have to kill you all.”

 _He is mocking me_ , you think to yourself. You do not turn to look at him.

“You did not have to kill any of us.” you respond, icily. “You chose to, General Cross. You chose to murder my family, my soldiers. Please, leave, and humiliate me no further. Let me suffer for my failures without your gloating presence.”

You hear the human general let out a sigh.

“There was nothing you could have done, King Asgore. It was out of your hands.”

You turn to look at him, now. He looks solemn, almost regretful, for a second. You don’t care. You know this man for what he is. Something inside you snaps.

“Don’t lie to me! Don’t you dare tell me there was nothing I could have done! I could not have saved my father or brother, but this battle, this _disaster_ for my people, was as much due to my cowardice as your ruthlessness! I didn’t even _try_ to fight you once you were here! I should have killed you with my flames when you rode up, I should have burned your mages alive, and taken your SOUL! Perhaps then Greatest Dog would not have died trying to end your wretched human life!”

General Cross’s face is like a stone through your rant. You cannot tell if he is afraid, but he looks down at the ground, then glances at Gerson, who is still sleeping on the grass.

“You have killed me. You’ve killed me four times.”

_What?_

He continues. “This war was necessary. You know as well as I that monsters can absorb human souls. I know it almost never happens. But when it does, the monster gains immense power. That guard of yours cut a whole volley of arrows out of the air with only one SOUL taken, not to mention stabbing me with a beam of light from his sword. What if a monster acquires five SOULS? Six? Seven? With seven, a single monster could easily kill humanity. They could take all our SOULS, tear our God out of heaven, and rule over reality. Or they could just destroy it.”

“I want you to try and imagine something,” he says. “I want you to imagine you learned, tomorrow, that you could go back in time. That you could reset the world to before this war, before I had your father and brother killed, and you warned them. Imagine that you tried to change it, but you failed, and your people were defeated and destroyed. Each time you were killed, you could return to before the war, and you tried, again and again, to get it right. To win. To save your people. Would you give up? Flee? Or would you stay determined, and fight until I was dead, and my people subdued? If you failed again and again, would you try to go back further, and convince your father to strike first? Would you give up your honor, your reputation, your legacy, for a chance for your people to survive? If you won, after countless attempts, would you be able die happy, knowing your saved your people, no matter how much human blood you spilled?”

You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say to all this. You don’t know what you’d do in the insane hypothetical the human just posed to you.

“Honestly,” he says, “You remind me of myself when I was younger. I hope you do not become the sort of person I have. It is painful.”

General Edgar Cross then picks up one of the cups of tea, and sips it. “You and your people will live. You surrendered, and I will honor that. I'll need you to convince your fiance to leave your castle willingly, however. No-one else will die. You can live out your life in peace with her. But I don’t intend to let it be so much as possible for another war to happen between humans and monsters. There are certain precautions that must be taken.”

He leaves your tent, and you still have no idea what to say.

Eventually, you start to drink the other cup of tea, and begin to cry.

 


	4. Ebott

You are marched out from the forests in the shadow of the mountain, and back towards the city. Your hands are chained, and you are surrounded by human mages and soldiers. General Cross leads them, riding a horse. You try not to let your face show your shame as you are marched past the homes of your people. They are gazing at you from the windows and in the streets. You keep your eyes pressed forward, but you hear their cries of loss. If they did not before know of the battle’s outcome, they do now. Trying not to think of it, you keep moving forward.

You recall what General Cross had told you earlier, as Gerson slept on the grass. The implications of the questions the human general asked you, you wonder if it was some kind of trick. He seemed to imply that he had traveled in time, to save his people from losing a war against monsters. That you had killed him before - multiple times. Any sensible monster knows that time travel is impossible, beyond the limits of magic, with the theoretical exception of a monster who had collected many human SOULS. No monster in history that you know of had ever claimed more than one. Humans mages, despite formidable magic, surely could not do such a thing. You do not think General Cross is even a mage.

There are two possibilities that occur to you. Either he is playing you for a fool, trying to trick you into some minor sympathy for him, or, somehow, he is a time traveler, and prevented a slaughter of his people with his treachery. You know your father would never have done such a thing - he was too open, too trusting, too kind. But your brother Velmant was never at ease dealing with humans, even before the war. You remember uncomfortable jokes he made, saying humans all looked the same. He did have an interest in military strategy as well… but he was your _brother_. You cannot imagine him collecting souls, and trying to wipe humanity from the world.  Or perhaps you simply cannot bear to think of him in such a way. You push the thought of it from your head, and keep walking.

When you arrive at the castle, the gate is closed. The castle towers loom tall above you. There is a tightness in your chest, and you fear for Toriel. The war has come to her, and you pray she will survive it. General Cross told you he meant to honor your surrender, but you cannot help but worry. She can be stubborn, and you don’t doubt Cross would kill her if she tried to fight.

For what seems like hours, there is silence, waiting with the humans at the gate. Eventually, though, the gate lowers, and you see Toriel waiting on the other side.

She stands alone, no guards beside her. She looks weary, but you know she is trying to stay strong. Her eyes meet yours, and you almost smile.

One of the human soldiers lets out a chuckle. You don’t know what he finds funny. Perhaps he expected to have to stay here and lay siege to the castle, and is relieved. At the sound of the  laughter, General Cross raises a hand. The soldier stops chuckling, and there is silence again, for a second. Then, the general speaks.

“You must be Toriel”, he says, and though he stands in front of you, you suspect he is smiling.

Toriel’s expression is a mix of emotions, and though you know and love her, you have no guess what she will say or do now.

“I have no words for miserable creatures such as yourself, murderer,” she says to your captor, her voice uncharacteristically cold. She walks forward, and, for a second, you fear she will try to fight him.

 _Toriel, no,_ you try to shout, but your voice catches in you throat.

Instead of fighting him, though, she walks past him, and up to you. Her arms wrap around you, and you feel her composure give way to tears.

“It’ll be okay, Tori, it’ll be okay,” you try to console her, but you fear it is a lie. You would return her embrace, if not for the chains tying your hands.

You see General Cross look back at the two of you. He then turns his gaze back to your father’s castle, your home, and walks inside.

 

* * *

 

That night, you, Toriel, and the rest of your people are marched out of the city and towards the mountain. The instructions are clear - every monster is to be out of the city.

Every monster not at the foot of Mt. Ebott by morning will be be killed.

Every monster may bring what possessions they can carry with them, but nothing more.

The night is dark, and it has begun to rain. You hear a young monster crying, sobbing loudly somewhere behind you as you are marched back to the base of the mountain. There are others crying too. You see monsters carrying whatever possessions they care about most. One monster, an old rabbit, carries books, cursing as he struggles not to drop them in the mud. One, a monster in a suit whose head is green flames, carries a framed image of a child’s drawing. They carry their hopes and dreams through the damp, cold night, into a bleak, uncertain future.

Their tears mix with the rain, and you try your hardest not to start to cry again as well. Your hand is in Toriel’s, and you wonder if you will live to marry her, to have children, to be happy again, someday.

When you reach Mount Ebott, the humans remove your manacles, and take you and your people to an outcropping, near the caverns you once tried to explore with your brother when you were young. You are soon lying down, and fast asleep in Toriel’s arms. You dream of better times.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, you are woken from peaceful slumber by the sound of horns. You do your best to ignore them, but Toriel sits up. She shakes you, trying to get you up, and you mumble something incoherently, still half-asleep.

The second horn sounds, and then she grabs your arms, standing, and drags you to your feet.

It takes a second to remember everything. The deaths, the battle, the march. Seconds later, the horn sounds again, and, blinking, you take in the scene to which you awoke.

Human soldiers surround the crowded field from which the last of monsterkind is waking. The beaten soldiers of your brother’s army, the women, the children and elderly monsters alike are waking, surrounded by a wall of spearmen, pointing their weapons inward, shields at their sides.

 _So this is how we die,_ you think, before the horn sounds again.

The spearmen begin to close in, and you can see there is no way past them. There are too many, and you count seven humans in mage’s robes. On horseback sits General Cross, in dark armor, watching it all

There is magic fire in your hands. Your SOUL is burning with fury, and you shout a rallying cry.

“The human general has lied and killed and lied again! He promised peace to my father, promised me mercy in our defeat, and now means to kill us all, it seems! Let’s make him work for it! Ready your magic, and _fire!”_

You do not fire the first bullet. A young fox monster in an officer’s uniform send a magic blast at the row of spearmen before you, directly in front of the general. A volley of blasts follow, magic from the hands of monsters young and old, soldiers and civilians. You hear them rally together, firing blast after blast of magic. You add your white hot flame magic to the mix, and the glowing field of magical fire has you think, for a second, that General Edgar Cross can be killed.

The magic makes a glowing line, a field of magic, burning, exploding, cutting away, obscuring the mass of human spearmen. But when it clears for a second, you do not see any burning humans.

Instead, you see that the humans soldiers are not wounded, are not burning, and are certainly not dead. It was as if all the magic of your people had hit a barrier, a field it could not cross.

 _The mages_ , you think, despairing. _The soldiers don’t have us trapped, the mages do._

The soldiers close in, slowly, and, as more of your people’s magic is thrown, to no effect, you realize the force field is shrinking too, as the the human spearmen close their bladed circle.

You realize, quite suddenly, that Toriel is not at your side. That, for some reason, gives you more fear than the enclosing wall of human soldiers. Turning back to look towards the mountain, you quickly spot her, helping an old rabbit monster to his feet. She helps him carry his books towards the caverns.

 _The caverns_ , you think. The human spearmen are not in front of the caverns. The humans soldiers approach from the front and sides, pushing your people toward the cavern entrance. The pieces click together in in your mind on after another, and only then do you know what General Cross means to do. This is not going to be a massacre. This will not be a genocide of your people by pointed spears, but a living burial, entombed under the mountain.

Cold despair grips your heart. Your remaining soldiers, spearpoints nearly at them, back up past you, into the narrow cavern entrance. The fight has gone out of them, it seems, and you think it has left you as well.

You turn again, away from the cave, and slowly, you raise your right hand in front of yourself, reaching towards the sun in the morning sky.

_The sun. I will never see it again, will I?_

Behind you, amidst the chaos, you hear Toriel call your name, voice panicked. General Edgar Cross looks down at you from horseback, behind his soldiers, a faint smile on his lips.

Your arm is reaching for the sun, but before the spears reach you, the barrier does, cold on the palm of your right hand. Your arm is pushed backwards towards your chest. A pair of hands grasps your you left hand from behind, and you turn to see Toriel, tears in her eyes.

 _I must not die,_ you realize, _not while my people need me, not while Toriel still lives. I am a king, and kings must lead._

The thought gives you a measure of resolve. You take Toriel’s hand in your own, and walk into the underground. 


End file.
